


Angel in Red

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Premonition, character injury, hallucination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7495101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is Meg's vision a hallucination or a premonition for Fraser??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Angel in Red   
Saturday morning while Ben and Dief ate breakfast they heard a knock on the front door.   
“Hmm, that's unusual,” Ben thought as he jogged to answer it. Opening the door he came face to face with Mr. Mustaffi, who looked irritated.  
“There's a phone call for you, Constable Fraser.” His clipped accent reminded Ben of a soccer announcer he'd heard as a boy.  
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Mustaffi.” Ben followed the fifty-something gentleman next door to his apartment and picked up the telephone.  
“Constable Fraser,”  
Inspector Thatcher cut him off halfway through his greeting..  
“I need you to come to Cook County General Hospital. It's important.” She gave him specific instructions on what to bring.  
****   
Cook County General Hospital Emergency Room ….  
Fraser carried a manila envelope under his arm as he walked to the receptionists' desk. The thirty-something brunette greed him with a bright smile on second glance.  
“May I speak to Inspector Margaret Thatcher, she called me to meet her here.” Ben held up the envelope as proof of purpose.  
“Follow me,” The receptionist released the door and escorted the off-duty Mountie through the maze of exam rooms.  
****   
“You wished to see me, Inspector?” Fraser asked as he stood at the foot of the ER gurney. She looked at him, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed.  
“Yes, obviously, or I wouldn't have called. Did you bring the file I requested?” Thatcher fussed with the IV in the back of her left hand.  
“Yes, Sir,”   
From somewhere to the rear Ben heard a muffled snicker.  
“Sorry,”   
Fraser whirled around to see a young, black nurse stifling an easy smile.  
“I have paperwork for you to fill out.” Contrite, the nurse handed Meg a clipboard and a pen.  
“Have you contacted your next-of-kin?” The nurse gave Fraser a speedy once over as she stepped back.  
Meg noticed her face glow. Ben seemed unaffected by the subtle attention.  
“Yes, may I have a moment alone?” Meg dismissed the nurse before focusing on Fraser.  
“Next-of-kin, Sir?” Fraser asked, stepping closer to the Inspector's side.  
“I've been feeling uncomfortable for the last several days. This morning I drove myself here. Dr. English confirmed my suspicions; appendicitis. I'm to have surgery in a few hours time.” Meg hesitated to ask her next question – a favor.  
“My family is home, in Ottawa, unable to come. Constable Fraser, would you be my representative, should anything happen?” She studied his face, waiting or a polite bail out.  
“It's a routine procedure, and this isn't he first time I've been put under, I assure you, nothing will happen. This is just a formality.” Meg rushed to allay his questions.  
“I'll do it.”   
Meg blinked, surprised at Fraser's answer.   
“Thank you, Fraser, I'm very grateful.” It wasn't easy for Meg to feel indebted to anyone, but especially to her troublesome junior officer.  
“You're welcome, Sir.” Fraser nodded, his eyes locked onto hers.  
To break the silence, Meg quickly walked Fraser through her advance directive; the manila envelope he'd been holding for over an hour.  
****   
Meg swallowed hard as she watched the florescent lights go by overhead. A nurse had laid a warm blanket over her but she shivered regardless. The only other time Meg had been under anesthesia was to have her wisdom teeth cut out as a teenager. The thoughts of going under again terrified her. How would she know what was going on?  
“Fraser will take care of me. I can trust him.” Meg told herself. With a sigh she laid back and let the medical team work.   
****   
Ben sat in the operating room waiting room by himself. Dief had gone off to the Vecchio house for lunch and Ray had a shift at the Twenty-seventh Precinct.  
“Why would Inspector Thatcher choose me as her representative? She barely tolerates me.” He thought back to being fired and the transfer she held over his head.  
“If it wasn't for Ray, I'd be in the same situation.” The thought chilled the Mountie. Would anyone but the Vecchios mourn him should something happen? What would happen to Dief?  
“Feeling your own mortality, Son?”   
Ben turned to find his father's ghost sitting beside him. The old man had a steady gaze, an unnerving gaze sometimes.  
“Just thinking about the future, Dad.” Ben answered, digging his thumbnail across his eyebrow.   
“Take care of things now, while you can. I still don't have any grandchildren.”   
Ben hung his head. They'd had this conversation time and again.   
“Now. Before you start, think about it. You're the last of your line, It'd be a shame to let the Fraser name die, Son.” Fraser Sr. gestured with his hand, the other resting on his jodhpur clad knee.  
“It isn't my fault you left me an only child.” Ben snapped before he thought. Hurt in his father's eyes made the Mountie instantly regret his words.  
“Just trying to give a little advice.” Fraser Sr. sulled up, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“Dad …..” Ben began.  
“Constable Fraser,” An OR nurse called before the Mountie could finish.  
“Yes?” Ben looked from his father to the nurse who'd snickered in the ER.  
“Dr. English needs to speak to you.” Now the African-American nurse wore a concerned expression.  
****   
Meg found herself standing on a pot holed street lined with rundown businesses. A chilly wind blew against her face. A plastic bag skipped past, carried on the same breeze. Garbage lined the gutter. The stripped husk of a luxury car sat to her right. For a moment Meg wondered if it were one of the consulate cars.   
Screeching tires made her turn to the other end of the block. A dull, red Ford LTD fishtailed, barely hanging in long enough to make the turn. The driver, a man with dark hair and a fearless set to his thin face, steered the big car straight for Meg. He accelerated as if he saw no obstacles. Meg panicked, covering her face with both hands. Her whole body tensed, breathing stopped and stomach clenched.   
A rush of wind and a deafening crash roused Meg from her breathlessness. Peeking from between her fingers, she saw her bare feet and legs still intact. Her white hospital gown fluttered in the breeze. Nothing had happened.  
“Damn,” a male voice behind her cursed loudly.  
Turning, Meg saw the Ford's driver stumbling out of the wreckage. He'd hit a pothole, throwing the car, then crashed into the stripped luxury sedan.  
“It passed right through me.” Meg didn't marvel aloud long.   
“Stop!” Fraser's voice called as he ran hard after his wolf.  
“I can't believe this guy.” the driver muttered as he began stumbling toward the nearest building; a five story apartment building.  
Meg began shouting, demanding Fraser tell her what was going on. The Mountie didn't bat an eyelash, he and the wolf dodged the wrecked Ford and took off toward the apartment building. Meg ran after them, still shouting at her junior officer. The driver led them up a fire escape and across the roof. Meg wondered how the driver kept ahead of Fraser and the wolf, she could barely keep up.   
Meg watched in horror a few seconds later as Fraser jumped several feet from the roof of the apartment building to the roof of another building. His Stetson brim caught the wind and flew backward, off his head. Both men and the wolf made the leap successfully. What happened next chilled Meg to the bone. Fraser ran two strides and disappeared. It seemed as if the red brick building swallowed him whole. One second the red serge clad figure ran like the wind, the next nothing to be seen. Dief continued chasing the driver, oblivious to Fraser's absence.  
Meg tried to jump; to get to Fraser. In mid-air she disappeared. The next thing she remembered was an obnoxiously bright light in her eyes and masked people peering down at her.  
“She's back, thank you, God.” a familiar male voice said.  
****


	2. Chapter 2

Recovery ….  
“She's right here, Constable.” the nurse pushed back the curtain, dragging it in it's metal track.   
“Thank you kindly.” Ben spoke softly. The OR nurse nodded before leaving.  
Meg lay in the hospital bed, her eyes closed. An oxygen tube crossed her face while other monitor leads clung to her limbs.   
“Inspector,” Ben spoke quietly as he stood at her bedside.  
“She's asleep; so peaceful.” he thought to himself as he gazed at her. For once he didn't have to fear her gleaning his true feelings with a look. He could memorize her features. Dr. English had told him how the Inspector had stopped breathing on the operating table, how they'd resuscitated her twice before she came back. Ben had felt his own heart stop at the news. His head told him it was a freak occurrence. Somewhere in his heart he felt a pang of guilt.   
“Fraser?” the Inspector's voice rasped.   
“Hmm, yes, Inspector?” Ben looked up from his boots where his gaze had fallen while he thought.   
“Is it over?” she managed weakly.  
“Yes, Sir, the surgery is over.” he answered, his mind skipping ahead to how to tell her the doctor wanted to admit her to the hospital for observation over night.  
“Why do you look so awful?” The Inspector fixed him with a confused expression.  
“There were complications during surgery ….” Ben began. He watched her expression change from confusion to shock. When he explained that Dr. English planed to admit her, the Inspector's face clouded with anger.  
“That's nonsense.” the Inspector declared.  
“Miss Thatcher?” A harried looking man of about forty stepped through the curtain.  
“Dr. English, what is this nonsense about overnight observation?” Her voice had lost most of it's raspiness. From the color of milk chocolate, her eyes had turned to dangerously sharp obsidian.  
“It's SOP when something like this happens. Constable Fraser's already signed the necessary paperwork.” Dr. English gestured toward the Mountie with one long, pale hand. The other he pushed his glasses up atop his head among a scant fringe or faded ginger hair.   
“You did what?” the Inspector demanded, sitting up quickly despite the monitor leads, IV and oxygen tube.   
“Now, Miss Thatcher, relax, it's just overnight. You'll be released before Sunday brunch.” Dr. English assured her.  
It didn't matter, she still sent death glares at Fraser.  
“Oh dear,” Ben thought. His feet and legs hurt already from the sentry duty he knew she'd punish him with.   
“They'll be to transfer you any minute and I'll check in later.” Dr. English smiled obliviously before leaving Ben to face the Inspector.  
When the last curtain ring hit home in it's metal track, Inspector Thatcher unloaded both barrels on Ben. He stood still and took it.  
“I asked you to serve as my next-of-kin as a precaution; as a matter of form, not to actually DO anything.” she growled, her arms crossed awkwardly over her chest.  
“Doc ordered this for you, something to help you relax.” the snickering nurse burst into the small recovery room, a needle in hand. Before the Inspector could protest, the nurse injected it into the IV line. With a smile, the nurse turned to Fraser and whispered, “You're welcome, honey, shell rest all night now.” She gave the Mountie a pat on the shoulder before retreating.  
Ben turned back to the Inspector. Her heart rate and blood pressure had lowered and her eyes drooped sleepily.  
****   
Ray pulled the Riv up to the hospital entrance and shoved it into park.   
“It's Saturday night and I'm drivin' to the hospital to meet the Mountie, chaufferin' his stinkin' wolf. I should be cuddled up with a leggy blonde somewhere instead of here, but no.” Ray grumbled as he walked Dief on a leash toward the automatic doors.  
“Hello, Ray, thank you for taking care of Diefenbaker for me.” Fraser bent down to Dief's level and gave the old wolf a head scratch.  
“Ah, what else I got to do on a Saturday night? Come on, I'm starved and you're buyin'.” If the Mountie was going to ask a favor the least he could do was spring for dinner.  
“Your choice of restaurants, Ray, I don't mind.” Fraser caught up to him at the car. On his way in Dief fanned his tail in Ray's face.  
Ray grumbled all the way to the steak house.  
****   
Meg looked down at her feet; still bare. Beneath her feet lay pebbles covering the roof of a building. Ahead she saw a gaping hole, sunlight barely penetrating tot he floor below.   
“Hello, anyone?”   
Meg heard Fraser shout, his voice desperate.  
“Fraser, I'm here, I'm coming.” she called as she began walking carefully toward the hole.  
“Hello, hello,” Fraser called again, this time louder.  
Meg lay down on her stomach and peered in at her junior officer. Fraser lay on his back, his body rigid.  
“Help, anyone!” he called again.  
“I'm here, Fraser. How can I help?” He didn't react. “Fraser,” Meg called again.   
Again, he didn't react.  
“Constable, answer me, that's an order!” Meg demanded angrily. She couldn't stand the thought of Fraser giving up.  
“Inspector?” a familiar voice spoke from somewhere behind her.  
“What?” she spat, turning.  
“Inspector?”   
When Meg moved everything changed. Instead of a pebble covered roof and a so-so Chicago sky she saw a pastel wall and florescent lights.  
“Are you alright, Sir?” Fraser asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he stood at the bedside.  
“Fraser, thank God, you're okay.” Meg sat bolt upright and grabbed his arm.  
“Yes, Sir, I'm quite alright, but I'm concerned for you.” He began studying the various read-outs on the monitor, going so far as to press the back of his hand against her forehead.  
“Constable Fraser, stop, listen to me for a minute,” More composed, Meg began telling him about the two dreams she'd had. He listened politely; that she expected. What he did next surprised her.  
“I won't follow the suspect, you have my word.” He gave her the most sincere smile Meg had ever seen on anyone. Somehow the fear in her gut remained.   
“Thank you, Fraser.” she let her fears go unspoken.   
“Would you like anything before I leave for the night?”   
Meg noticed how Fraser left off her rank.  
“I'm fine, thank you kindly.” She watched him nod before walking away. His Stetson twirled on his index finger as he turned the corner.  
“The Stetson!” Meg realized she'd left out an important detail. Everyone knew if Fraser lost the Stetson terrible things always happened.   
“Fraser! Stop!” Meg began calling, struggling to free herself of the monitor leads.   
“Whoa, now, you better sit back if you want released in the morning.” A motherly nurse bustled in, urging Meg back to bed. Her knee length braid swing side-to-side as she moved.   
“I have to warn him.” Meg protested.  
“I'm sure he can take care of himself.” The nurse pulled Meg's blanket back up. She fussed for a few more minutes, giving Meg her medication, including a mild sleep aid. Meg dozed off into a dreamless sleep.  
*****   
Sunday Morning ….  
Fraser walked through the hospital hallway around six-thirty; just as the day shift nurses arrived for work. He carried a thermos of coffee and a bakery sack. Dief had refused to wait on the sidewalk. He hoped against hope he'd get a bite of bagel crumbs.  
“Fraser, there you are.” the Inspector barked as soon as he stepped withing sight.  
“Good morning, Inspector, how are you?” Ben asked, scanning the monitor above her head. When his gaze fell on her face she looked ready to climb the walls. He knew the feeling.  
“It will be several more hours before Dr. English makes his rounds, therefore several, unbearable hours until I'm released.” She looked longingly at the thermos in Ben's hand.  
“I haven't eaten breakfast yet and I don't relish the thought either.”  
Ben knew a hint when he heard one.  
“Here you are, Sir, Ms. Fields' bagels, just as you like them.” He handed her the bag and set the thermos on the rolling tray.  
“Ah, how thoughtful, thank you.” The Inspector barely finished her sentence before devouring a bagel.  
“You're welcome, Sir.” Ben took a seat at the foot of the bed. Dief sat watching Thatcher, anxious to jump on any discarded crumbs. She sorely disappointed him.  
Ben stared out the window to his right. Pink and yellow tinged the clouds in the distance. He debated whether or not to ask the Inspector how she slept; had she had any more nightmares? She had desperately searched his face the night before. He'd felt her fingers digging into his arm for hours afterward. The romantic in Ben had wanted to take her in his arms and hold tight the rest of the night.   
“Constable,”   
Ben roused from his thoughts at the sound of Thatcher's sharp voice.   
“Yes, Sir?” He sat up straighter. Ben resisted the urge to squirm under her curious gaze.   
“As I said, it will be several hours before I'm released. I'm certain you have other places to be, so I'll call a cab to take me home.” The Inspector sipped her coffee carefully, studying him over the rim of a Styrofoam cup.   
“A cab, Sir, are you certain?” Ben couldn't tolerate the idea of her depending on a stranger after having surgery twenty-four hours before.   
“I don't plan on walking and I can't drive myself.” she countered, eyes narrowed.   
“I'll drive you, Sir,” Ben jumped to volunteer, “to save cab fare.” he amended quickly.  
“To save cab fare.” Thatcher nodded, her expression masked.  
“Yes, Sir.” Ben hoped she believed him.  
****


	3. Chapter 3

On the way home ….  
Meg had seen turtles in the zoo move faster than Fraser drove. Dief sticking his nose in between the front seats didn't help either. All Meg wanted was a shower and an uninterrupted nap.   
“Fraser, let me out at the front door.” Meg pointed to the glass, double doors of her building. Every parking spot along the street had been filled.  
“Yes, Sir.” Fraser answered, but didn't stop. Instead he turned right, still poking along thought someone behind him laid on the horn.  
“Fraser, I said the front door.” Meg barely kept herself from snapping.  
“Yes, Sir, I understand, perhaps a parking spot will open up once we've driven around the block.”   
Meg pinched the bridge of her nose, reminding herself he meant well and he was doing her a favor.  
“The sooner the better.” she muttered. Thankfully, Fraser picked up the pace to twenty miles and hour.  
Fraser found a spot near the corner, not terribly far from the door. Dief jumped out and found a spot in the sun beside the glass doors. Fraser hovered beside Meg as she let herself into the building then up the elevator to her apartment.  
“I take it you're coming in.” Meg stated as she unlocked two deadbolts and the knob. She glanced over her shoulder to see the Mountie digging at his eyebrow.  
“Why not, he's been brave enough to come this far.” she thought.   
“Come in, Constable, just for a moment.” Meg invited as she turned back to open the door. Quietly, Fraser followed Meg inside. She wondered what he thought of her cozy quarters. Did he like her taste in décor? Meg had seen his apartment; Spartan as it was. How did hers compare?  
“Would you like something for lunch, Sir?”   
Meg laid her purse on the cherry coffee table and sat down on the navy, velvet couch to the left of the front door.  
“No, thank you, I'll eat a bite later, right now I just want to rest.” she answered, slipping out of her flats before putting them under the coffee table. Food did sound good but she also felt bone tired.  
Meanwhile, Fraser had chosen to investigate the small kitchen to the right of the front door. Meg heard the refrigerator open and close before he came back to the living room.   
“Perhaps a grilled cheese sandwich?” Fraser suggested persistently. Meg couldn't resist, feeling guilty when she saw his concern.  
“Yes, grilled cheese, I think I have tomato soup as well. Let me look.” Meg began to get up.  
“Oh no, Sir, I'll find everything, you should rest.” Fraser assured her, gesturing for her to stay put.  
“Have it your way, Constable.” Meg muttered as she settled back onto the comfy couch.  
***   
Ben felt strange rummaging through the Inspector's cabinets. He knew, logically, that they didn't harbor any secrets. Still, he glimpsed a domestic side to her. He found fudge in the refrigerator, next to a homemade fruit salad and bottled water.  
When he looked into the living room, wondering if the Inspector wanted a grilled cheese sandwich, he saw her sitting on the sofa with her bare feet on the coffee table. He'd never seen her so relaxed, especially around him. The thought struck Ben, I could imagine myself living here with her. He could see himself cooking for her, talking about the days' events before sitting down to eat. A wave of sadness washed his daydream away. Pushing it aside, Ben set to cooking.  
*****   
Meg stared at the clock for a moment wondering what time the nurse said to take her antibiotics and pain meds. She began looking through the paperwork for times but the size six font blurred without her glasses.  
“Stupid glasses,” Meg muttered as she fished in the end table's drawer for her spare pair.  
Once perched on her nose, Meg's glasses cleared up the fuzzy font.   
“Here it is, pain meds four times a day, antibiotics three. I take the pain meds now the antibiotics with dinner and the pain pills again at bed time.”  
“Sir, dinner is ready.” Fraser's voice cut off abruptly.  
Meg looked up to see him staring at her, his eyes wide and mouth agape. She pulled her glasses off and shoved them in the drawer in one, fluid motion.  
“Ah, grilled cheese, thank you, Constable Fraser.” Meg glimpsed dejected resignation on his face a moment before his Mountie mask went back up.   
“Grilled cheese, tomato soup and celery garnish. Is there anything else you'd like before I leave?” Fraser asked politely – stiffly.  
“There's only one? Aren't you joining me?” Meg blurted out. She'd taken a pain pill and it hit her hard and suddenly. She felt very – mellow.   
“I really should be going, you need to rest, Sir.”   
Dief stood up, ambled over to the couch and laid down beside Meg. The wolf obviously didn't intend to leave.  
“Very well,” Fraser removed his Stetson and then went back to the kitchen. A few minutes later he cam out carrying sandwiches on a plate. He set one on a Styrofoam plate before Dief.  
Meg and Dief devoured their sandwiches. Fraser focused on the bowl of tomato soup he'd made a second trip to retrieve.  
“That was delicious, I could eat a second sandwich.” Meg complimented as she tried to stand. Awkwardly, she fell backwards, back onto the couch. She heard Fraser mutter, oh dear, before he stood up to relieve her of the plate and bowl.  
“I do need to rest.” Meg admitted. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself.  
“I hope I'll be able to go to the consulate tomorrow.” Meg thought to herself.   
Fraser came back to the living room and sat down to finish his grilled cheese and tomato soup. Meg looked longingly at his as yet uneaten sandwich. The Mountie looked up to see both Meg and Dief eying his food.  
“Would you care for half my grilled cheese sandwich, Sir?”   
Meg smiled briefly as she nodded. Fraser tore the cheesy sandwich in half. Dief scarfed down the other half from Fraser's hand. He shook his head at his greedy companion.  
After washing the handful of dishes he'd used, Fraser edged toward the door.  
“I should go, you need to rest,” he fiddled with his Stetson, looking down at his boots.  
Meg nodded, too drowsy to think clearly. She sat on the couch, content to stay there for the night. Her eyelids felt heavy.  
“G' night, Fraser,” The last thing Meg saw was the Mountie laying a chenille lap throw over her.  
“Good night, ma'am.”   
Meg would later wonder if his whispered words and feather light caress were a dream.  
*****


	4. Chapter 4

Monday Morning ….  
Fraser sat at the consulate's foyer desk. He'd already stuffed seventy envelopes with invitations to the Queen's birthday celebration. While his hands worked his mind wandered. It had been an unusual weekend. Never in a million years would he have thought the Inspector would ask him a favor. Seeing her after surgery, so peaceful, had been thrilling. At his feet, Fraser heard Diefenbaker snort in disgust.  
“I know you don't understand what I see in the Inspector. It's difficult to define.” Ben had tried to explain his attraction to both Diefenbaker and his father's ghost. His father's only concern was grandchildren. The wolf, on the other hand, didn't like Thatcher in the least. He contended that an alpha female over a male was unnatural.   
“Good morning, Constable.” The Inspector's voice interrupted Fraser's thoughts. When he looked up his gaze fell on the subject of his distraction. Thatcher's usual business suit had been traded in for black loafers, khaki slacks and a pale green sweater with pearls. She'd dressed for comfort.  
“Inspector Thatcher, good morning, Sir.” Ben rose, envelope in hand. He tried to hide his surprise. The Inspector should have taken at least one day off he thought.  
“Are the invitations ready to mail?” she asked, frowning as she shifted her briefcase from her left to right hand.  
“Nearly, Sir, only five to finish. I've contacted the caterers, florist and temp staff service.” Ben went into a lengthy report of his morning's work. Before he came to the dry cleaners' bill the Inspector stopped him.   
“Thank you, Fraser, I'm certain you've seen to ever thing. Do I have any phone messages?” Thatcher quickly touched her stomach; the site of the surgery.   
“No, Sir.” Fraser answered, noting her strained features.   
“Carry on,” Thatcher quickly walked toward her office.  
“She's in pain.” Ben said softly as he looked down at Diefenbaker. The Mountie wondered if she had taken her antibiotics and pain meds that morning.  
“If only she weren't so stubborn.” Ben thought silently.   
Again, Diefenbaker snorted in disgust.  
“Ha! You're one to talk.” the wolf seemed to say.  
“Hush,” Ben admonished.   
****   
Monday …..  
Monday afternoon Meg went to her follow-up appointment with on of Dr. English's associates. Dr. Lu, a petite, Asian-American about Meg's age walked into the exam room. A navy blue headband kept her glossy curtain of hair out of her way.   
“Hello, Ms. Thatcher.” Dr. Lu quickly introduced herself as she prepared to examine Meg's incision.  
“Dr. English said your heart stopped twice during surgery. How do you feel now?” With delicate fingers Dr. Lu peeled back the gauze and tape.  
“I feel sore and a bit lethargic but nothing unusual.” Meg answered. She hated going to the doctor. How did they handle such a sterile environment all day?  
“Are you getting enough rest?” The lady doctor studied Meg, her dark eyes pulling the truth from her.  
“Well,” Meg hesitated, “no, probably not.” she exhaled slowly, bracing for a lecture.  
“I have a feeling it wasn't because your job won't survive without you. Dr. English mentioned hallucinations.” Between her soft voice and understanding gaze, Meg felt compelled to confide in her.   
“It actually felt more like a vivid dream.” Meg told all about her hallucinations and how detailed they seemed. When Dr. Lu scoffed Meg told her a few instances of Fraser's life while under her command.  
“You must have read one of them in the newspaper.” Meg finished as she waited for the doctor to re-dress the incision.  
“Most people whose heart stops in surgery have out-of-body experiences dealing with the afterlife, not their co-workers. I recommend you find someone to talk to; a psychologist, a therapist, someone.”   
Meg began to protest.  
“Someone, a good friend maybe.” Dr. Lu raised both hands to placate the lady Mountie.  
“I'll think about it, thank you kindly, Dr. Lu.” Meg took her turn to placate. She knew she really should see a therapist but wasn't about to spill her guts to just anyone.  
Dr. Lu sent Meg on her way with a good report and orders to follow-up with her family doctor.  
****   
Tuesday …..  
Meg arrived at the consulate at her usual time. Again, she'd dressed for comfort and convenience in slacks and a light sweater. She appeared better rested than the day before, Ben noted.   
“Good morning, Inspector, how do you feel?” He asked the last part quietly.  
A frown crossed Thatcher's face before she answered. “I'm fine, thank you, Constable. Do I have any phone messages?” she answered.  
“No, Sir.” Ben responded. He'd hoped she'd tell him about the follow-up appointment she'd had the afternoon before. Apparently not.   
Mindful of his subordinate status, Ben went back to work; organizing the janitor's closet for yearly inventory.  
Later …..   
“Hello, Son, I see you finally came out of the closet.”  
Ben closed the janitor's closet door his father had been standing behind. The old ghost's voice startled his son.  
“Dad, must you sneak up on me, honestly.” Ben growled as he looked around for witnesses.  
“Pardon me if the afterlife doesn't have Milton Berle for entertainment.” Bob Fraser retorted.  
“Why are you here, Dad?” Ben asked as he jotted a few notes on a clip board for inventory. Next would be the office supply closet.   
“You tell me, you were thinking about me. Something about that Inspector of yours and her hallucinations during surgery.” Fraser Sr. followed Ben as he moved on to his next destination.   
“That has been on my mind. I wonder it it was a hallucination or a premonition. Inspector Thatcher seemed convinced of it's reality.” Ben stopped counting bottles of correction fluid, his clip board against his chest as he pondered.  
“I'd say it was lack of oxygen to the brain, nothing more.” Fraser Sr. dismissed, talking expressively with his hands.  
“Still, odd things have happened in the past.” Ben thought back to such things as blowing up Ray's Riv – twice.  
“If I taught you anything, it's not to chase a man over a cliff.” Fraser Sr. refuted, reminding him of something Ben had told Ray Vecchio shortly after they met.  
Ben let it drop. Arguing with his father never solved, or answered, anything.  
“Constable Fraser, I'm off to lunch, do you need anything?” Turnbull interrupted innocently. The blond Mountie carried his Brady Bunch lunch box wit him.   
“No, Constable Turnbull, I'm fine, thank you kindly.” Ben answered, faking a smile.  
“Okey dokey,” Turnbull waved before turning to leave.  
When Ben turned back to the supply closet both Turnbull and his father's ghost had gone. Just as well.  
****


	5. Chapter 5

The Twenty-Seventh Precinct ….  
After his shift at the consulate, Ben met up with Ray at the precinct.   
“Hey, Benny, thanks for comin' to help, Welsh's pitchin' a fit about my files.” Ray pulled out the top drawer of the file cabinet across from his desk. Inside, Fraser spied a snarled mess.  
“Oh dear,” the Mountie muttered before digging in. His fingers had itched to tidy up Ray's files for months.   
Four hours later Fraser had found tax forms for 1979-83, dry cleaning receipts and a file in the back labeled 'Jimmy Hoffa'.   
“You found Hoffa, great, where was he?” Ray clapped the Mountie on the back with a grin.  
“I didn't know he was missing?” Ben answered, not understanding Ray's joke.  
“Come on, let's get some dinner, otherwise Dief's gonna start in on the furniture, he's already put away all last week's pastries in the break room.” Ray slipped into a finely tailored Armani jacket as he waited for Fraser to retrieve his Stetson.  
“Are you leaving, Fraser?” Elaine asked when they met in the hall. “Do you want to get a bite to eat?” She looked at him hopefully, her trim frame held in breathless expectation.   
“I have plans with Ray, perhaps a rain check?” Ben apologized. He noticed how the Civilian Aide seemed to shrink in disappointment.  
“Oh, okay, another time.” she gave him a half-hearted smile.   
“Come on, Benny, my stomach's tryin' to take a bite outta my backbone.” Ray pulled on the Mountie's sleeve, urging him to toward the door.   
“Good evening, Elaine.” Ben wished her as he staggered away, off balance. Dief had already found his way out.  
“Where to, Benny, Chinese, pizza or my house, Ma's making a casserole.” Ray spoke as he slid the key into the Riv's ignition.  
“Pizza,” Ben barked automatically. He didn't feel like fighting off Francesca's predatory advances.  
“Pizza it is then.”   
****   
Fraser stayed quiet as they drove to a familiar eatery – The Pepperoni Palace. The food tasted so good Dief didn't whine about waiting outside.   
“What's up, Fraser, you're quiet.” Ray queried after they'd taken a seat.  
“Just thinking, that's all.” Ben answered, peering at the second generation, Italian-American.   
“Thinkin', about what?” Ray persisted, laying his menu aside.  
Ben knew if he didn't tell Ray the detective would either pester him or sull up.   
“Do you think that I take too many risks, Ray?” Ben too laid his menu down.  
“Yes,” Ray said automatically. “Is that all?” He picked up the menu and began perusing the house wine list – all three bottles. The Pepperoni Palace served families so they stocked mostly beer and soft drinks.  
“Well, yes, that's all.” Ben went back to choosing between a veggie pizza or a baked spaghetti and salad platter.  
“This is about Thatcher's hallucinations isn't it.” Ray leaned back against the leather upholstered booth seat.  
“It has been on my mind, yes.” Ben admitted reservedly.  
“Ha!” Ray erupted. “The woman treats you like an indentured servant the half of the time she actually pays attention to you.”   
“Ray ….” Ben began. How could he explain his preoccupation with a woman who called him a moron on a regular basis?  
“Come on, Benny, it was a bad dream she had, leave it at that. So you take chances, look at how many people you've helped.” Ray outlined as he gestured expansively with his hands.  
“May I take your orders?” The waitress asked when Ray finished.  
*****  
Friday ….  
Meg tried very hard not to scratch her knitting incision. It had been six days since surgery; the longest in her whole life; so it seemed. At least I haven't hallucinated anymore, she thought. It wasn't an experience the control freak Inspector wanted to repeat.   
“I'll clear my in-box and recoup this weekend,” Meg muttered as she gently grazed the area around her incision with and index finger.  
TAP …. TAP …. TAP ….   
“Come in,” Meg called knowing the knocker before he opened the door. Looking up, after snatching off her glasses, Meg locked eyes with Fraser. She frowned to keep from smiling like a ninny.  
“Yes, Constable?” she managed, somehow without gushing. Every handsome man she'd ever seen paled in comparison to Fraser. None of them stood as straight or looked at her with such boyish charm and sincerity.   
“I'm leaving for the evening, Sir. Unless you need anything that is.” Fraser hesitated, his Stetson between his hands. Meg's gaze landed on the broad brimmed head gear. She saw it gliding through the air as effortlessly as a hawk on the breeze.  
“Sir?” Fraser's voice cut through the vision. Meg snapped to attention.   
“You're dismissed, Constable.” she announced harshly. Her face burned from shock and embarrassment   
“Yes, Sir.” Fraser answered stiffly before turning to leave. He'd turned the door handle and pushed before Meg found her voice.  
“Fraser!”   
He turned back, brows lifted in surprise and question.  
“Stay safe,” Meg forced out, her heart in her throat.  
“Yes, Sir, I will.” he nodded, his features more schooled.  
After an awkward silence, Fraser left, closing the door behind him.   
“Very intelligent conversation, Meg.” she groused to herself. Seeing the Stetson had brought back every terrifying second of both hallucinations.  
Meg decided to let her in-box remain occupied and start again on Monday. She needed a breath of fresh air and chocolate chip cookies. Still, the vision of Fraser nagged at her.  
****


	6. Chapter 6

Friday evening ….  
Ben walked from the consulate in the ritzier part of the Windy City to his apartment on Racine. Along the way Dief trotted from car to trash can to tree, happily sniffing as he went. Ben still puzzled over Thatcher's hallucinations; over the fear in her eyes. He'd seen that fear for a split second in her office only a moment before.  
Dief stopped at the corner and sat on his haunches, glaring at Ben with impatience. The wolf was not a fan of Inspector Thatcher. He and Ben had agreed to disagree on the matter.  
“I'm coming, it isn't as if you don't know the way.” Ben reminded the fur ball. Standing at the corner, only yards from his apartment building, Ben saw an early 70's model Ford – a red one. He stared, frozen, as the car clipped a Chevy Astro van. The car kept going, racing away from the scene. Dief took off after a glance at Ben.   
The Mountie made his way to the Astro van's front door, where a woman in her mid-thirties sat, twisted around to see if five, shaken children were okay.  
“Are you alright, ma'am?” Ben asked, also looking into the rear.  
“I'm fine. Did you get a look at that bozo who hit me?”   
“Yes, I'll report it momentarily.” With that, Ben took off after Dief and the red Ford.  
****   
Ben's feet pounded hard against the cement or pavement, which ever had the least traffic. His arms and heart moved in rhythm with his feet, carrying him into a runner's high. Easily, his mind made split second decisions – calculations. Ben followed both the speeding vehicle and Dief's white flag tail. Both lead him into an even seedier neighborhood than his own. Store fronts sat empty, shafts of afternoon sun shining through holes in the roofs. A few, curious residents peered out from windows overhead and stray dogs raised an alarm.   
When Ben turned a particularly sharp curve he caught sight of the Ford's front door opening. Before Dief or Ben could close in the driver took off on foot. Ben thought he heard a woman's angry voice shouting for him to stop. He dismissed the thought as he watched the Ford's driver jump to reach a fire escape ladder, Dief chomping at his heels. Ben barely caught the last wrung but managed to haul himself up the rusty contraption anyway. In the process he lost his Stetson.  
“Oh dear,” He muttered. Inspector Thatcher's words came back to him; the details of her hallucinations. The Mountie strove on, hoping against hope her premonition proved wrong.  
Ahead, the driver, a tall, skinny man with curly black hair and a black leather jacket, made a frantic leap to the building next door. Ben put on a burst of speed to make the daring jump as well.   
The next thing he remembered the sun had disappeared, replaced by an absolutely black sky.  
“Oh dear, oh dear,” he moaned as he assessed his situation. Inspector Thatcher's premonition was spot on.  
***  
Warm, gooey, fudge brownies came out of Meg's oven only half an hour after she arrived home. She didn't often indulge in baked goods; the red serge wouldn't allow for extra pounds. Meg scooped a large spoon of fudge ripple ice cream over the brownie and left the kitchen before anything else to eat tempted her. The off-duty Mountie sat down in her favorite spot; a navy blue recliner situated directly in front of the television.  
Meg enjoyed the freedom to watch whatever she wanted; whether it be a chick flick, rom-com, or hockey; one of the perks of single. Tonight, she wanted to settle into a romantic-comedy, Sleepless in Seattle. Unfortunately, even Meg Ryan couldn't pry Constable Fraser off her mind. It didn't stop her from finishing her brownie and ice cream though.  
“He can darn well take care of himself.” Meg told herself halfway through the movie. Frustrated with herself, she went to bed early.  
*****   
Monday morning …..  
Dean Martin played on the eight track as morning traffic inched along. The weather man had promised a warm, sunny day. Ray hoped that theme continued at work. He had fourteen open cases and several, promising leads. Hopefully, at least one case could be squared away by the end of the day.  
“Hello, Elaine,” Ray greeted the Civilian Aide, Dean-o still humming in his ears.  
“Hey, Ray, you're chipper this morning.” Her dark curls cascaded over her shoulder as she turned to speak, and to see if Fraser followed Ray.  
“I'm feeling good this morning.” he shrugged.  
“Good, because Welsh wants to see you – ASAP.” Elaine informed him pleasantly.  
“Well that's a buzz kill.” Ray grumbled as he checked his neck tie.  
“Sorry,” Elaine gave him a half-hearted grin.  
Later ….  
Two hours into his shift, Ray noticed that he hadn't seen or heard from Fraser. The Mountie hadn't been around the Twenty-Seventh since Friday.   
“Hey, Elaine, you seen Fraser today?” Ray parked one butt cheek on the counter of her desk.  
“Nope, wish I had thought.” She looked up from her computer screen, a wistful look on her face.   
“Sheesh, melt why don't ya.” Ray stood up, disgusted. Part of him envied Fraser's attraction to every woman who'd ever seen him – except ADA St. Laurent. That thought brightened Ray's thoughts. He decided to call her for a dinner date – soon.  
****   
Monday at the Consulate ….  
Turnbull stood sentry on another sunny day; nothing unusual about that. A breeze blew along the sidewalk, kicked up by passing traffic. Meg enjoyed the fresh air as she walked the one hundred yards from her official parking spot to the consulate's front door. Her incision felt itchy, something she reminded herself was a good thing. Itching meant healing.   
Inside the consulate felt empty. Intuition told Meg that Fraser wasn't there. Curious, she walked down the hall and knocked softly on his office door. No answer. Hesitantly, she opened the door. Everything stood in perfect order. The plants thrived and his in-box and out-box lay empty.  
“He's supposed to be here, Fraser's never late unless ….” The rest of the sentence died on Meg's tongue. She hastily dialed the Twenty-Seventh and asked for Detective Vecchio.  
“How many times do I have to tell that man that policing Chicago isn't his job. When I see him again ….”   
“Vecchio here,” The Detective spoke after the fourth ring.  
“May I speak to Constable Fraser?” Meg began, trying to maintain civility.  
“Sure, Fraser's office is down the hall, hang a right, he's the one in red, wears a funny hat.” the Detective shot back.  
Meg wanted to reach through the phone and strangle the rat-faced detective.  
“I'm well aware of where Fraser's office is, he isn't in his office, he's usually off with you when he's supposed to be serving his own country.” Meg's voice hardened; sharpened enough to slice titanium.   
“I ain't seen Fraser since Friday, he didn't come by my house either.”  
Meg heard an undercurrent of concern in the detective's voice.  
“Have you seen the wolf?” she asked, mind running through wild scenarios.   
“No, I ain't seen Dief either. You think they're alright? It ain't like Fraser to duck work and the Twenty-Seventh.”   
“I'm not certain but Constable Fraser better be alright,” Meg added mentally, “or else!”   
“I'll write up a missing persons on Fraser and get it out to the guys on patrol.” Meg heard Ray shuffling papers in the background.  
“Yes, do that and I'll go to Constable Fraser's apartment.” Meg volunteered.   
“I'll go with you, just in case.” He didn't say 'in case' of what but Meg knew what he meant.  
“Meet you there?” She wasn't about to follow him like a shrinking violet. Halfway she could live with.  
“Yeah, meet you there.” The Detective rudely hung up a split second later.   
Meg cursed the land of Vecchio's forefathers and hung up.  
After clearing her schedule and leaving instructions with the secretary, Meg drove to Fraser's building on Racine. She parked, doors locked, and waited for Vecchio.  
****


	7. Chapter 7

Fraser's Friday ….  
Ben tried to sit up but the pain in his shoulder and legs floored him. Overhead, bats took to the sky. Ben heard the sound of scurrying rodents. What he had hoped to hear was Diefenbaker or someone to help.   
“Lying here won't do any good.” Ben thought. He began to assess the damage. With his uninjured hand he touched his face to find blood oozing from his forehead. Next came his left arm. It seemed to be either broken or severely dislocated. A sharp pain in his back told Ben he'd bruised his back. That did not help the damage left over from the bullet wound from the year before.   
Ben put that thought aside and moved to his legs. Moving them proved painful. At least one of them had broken in the fall.   
“How do I get in these predicaments?” The Mountie asked himself aloud.  
“I understand where you're coming from, Son, I once found myself hanging up-side-down from a canoe in the top of a tree.”   
“Hello, Dad.” Ben spoke before Fraser Sr. could slip into the full flow of his story.  
“Lying on your back is a fine place to be. What about catching the criminal? He's halfway to Mexico by now.” Bob Fraser chided as he walked around his son, despite the weak and rotting floors.  
“I'm having a bit of a problem, Dad.” Ben growled as he pulled his left arm against his chest.   
“I've caught suspects with worse injuries. Why once I ….” Ben tuned out his father's tall tale.   
After Fraser Sr. realized Ben wasn't listening he faded away, grumbling about ungrateful children. That left Ben in peace and quiet, for which he felt thankful.  
****   
Meg's Monday ….  
Meg followed Ray up the stairs to Fraser's apartment. Stairs and abdominal incisions don't mix, but the lady Mountie wasn't about to show weakness; especially around Vecchio.   
Ray knocked loudly and waited, hands on his snake hips. Meg took a moment to breathe and compose herself. She hoped Fraser had simply overslept or forgotten his shift instead of the hallucination images she remembered.  
“Are you looking for Fraser?” A fifty-something man with a British tinged Indian accent asked, his head stuck out the door.  
“Yeah, you know where he is?” Ray asked, eying the man suspiciously.   
“I have no idea, but his wolf-dog showed up at my front door and has been eating me out of house and home since Friday.” He hauled Dief out on a rope leash and handed it to Ray.  
“Mr. Mustaffi, did he mention any plans for the weekend, going anywhere?” Meg stepped closer, pinning the man with her best Dragon Lady stare. Mr. Mustaffi straightened his sweater, standing tall.  
“Constable Fraser's personal life is none of my business.” He turned and walked into his apartment, closing the door firmly behind him.  
“Nicely done, Inspector, now we got butt kiss to go on.” Ray wagged a finger at her as he glared reproachfully.   
“And I suppose your tactics are better, Detective?” Meg countered.  
“Well I wouldn't have treated the guy like a serial killer like you did.” Ray leaned in, his voice terse. Meg stood fast, cool serenity on her face.  
“You find Fraser your way and I'll find him mine.” She said in a deceptively neutral tone.   
“Fine!” Ray answered before taking Diefenbaker and walking into Fraser's apartment. Meg hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and glided down the stairs.   
Meg went back to the consulate first. There she pulled out a map of the city and marked both the consulate and Fraser's apartment building. Someone between the two had to have seen Fraser.  
“Good thing I wore pants and loafers today.” she thought as she set out again.  
****


	8. Chapter 8

Ben's apartment ….  
Ray couldn't believe the sheer gall that woman had. How dare she insult his investigative methods, not to mention how rudely she'd treated Mr. Mustaffi. The Detective gave Diefenbaker an ear full of his opinion of Thatcher before he was first – talking to a wolf-dog, and second – talking to a deaf wolf-dog.  
“And I make fun of Benny.” Ray shook his head as he looked around his friend's Spartan apartment. Dief made a b-line for his food dish, which stood empty. The wolf whined, begging Ray to please feed him.  
Ray found the half empty bag of kibble and poured a scoop into the stainless steel bowl, then a bowl of tap water.  
“There you go, enjoy.” Ray said sarcastically before he went back to looking around. Nothing seemed out of place in the living- kitchen-dining room. He moved on to the bedroom. Again, perfect order.   
“Well, he ain't skipped town, he woulda taken his extra hat.” Ray said to Dief, who'd joined him. The wolf whined in response.  
“C'mon, let's go see if Elaine's heard anything.” Ray led the way.  
****   
The Twenty-seventh Precinct ….  
Elaine sat at her desk, staring at the telephone. Ray said her name three times before she looked up. Her eyes looked big enough to hold a whole universe; her brows lifted as her Cupid's bow lips turned downward.  
“Nothin' on Fraser?” Ray asked quietly as he leaned forward, both hands planted on the desk.  
Elaine shook her head silently. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned back in her chair. Around them the squad room went on; business as usual.   
“Do you think he's okay?” The Civilian Aide's voice barely registered in the chaotic din.  
“Fraser's fine. Drop an atomic bomb and it'd still be him and the cockroaches left alive.” Ray received a pursed lip glare for his remark.  
“He's fine, don't worry.” The Detective assured her.  
“Vecchio! My office.” Lt. Welsh called from across the busy room.  
“I love my job. I love my job.” Ray muttered as he turned around to leave.  
*****   
Meg proceeded in a grid pattern, stopping at every street vendor and foot patrol officer. None of them between the consulate and Racine had seen Fraser over the weekend.  
The eighth patrolman Meg spoke to reported a hit-and-run. The victim had mentioned a man in a funny, red uniform running after the fleeing car – a red Ford. The patrolman pointed Meg west. She thanked him as her heart sank. Her worst fear had come true.  
*****   
A cloud drifted by overhead, much to Ben's relief. Scalding rays of sun had pounded his face for the last three days. Lying on his back, the Mountie couldn't avoid the burn. He'd tried to move along the joists supporting him but the pain from his injuries impeded his progress.  
A sunburn wasn't the worst of Ben's problems. He wanted a drink of water so badly; even Chicago tap water would do. Hunger made him dream of Ma Vecchio's lasagna. More than anything he wanted to see Inspector Thatcher, Diefenbaker and Ray. He missed them.  
“I just want to see her brown eyes again.” Ben told himself. The thought made his heart hurt. If he wasn't found soon he knew he's die.  
From somewhere within the bowels of the building Ben thought he heard a sneeze.  
“It couldn't be.” the Mountie said aloud. He laid very still and listened.  
A second sneeze.  
Ben heard footsteps coming closer.  
A third sneeze.  
“Hello?” he called out hopefully.  
“I'm coming, Fraser.” he heard a second later. Meg's voice sounded like music to his ears; well, more so than usual anyway.  
*****


	9. Chapter 9

Meg climbed the stairs up to the fifth floor. She'd had to test every one before committing all her weight. Her clothes caught in an untold number of spider webs and dust motes made her sneeze. After the third sneeze she'd heard a soft, “Hello?” from high above.  
“I'm coming, Fraser,” Meg called.   
It felt like forever before she stepped on the last step. The door ahead stood open partially. A shaft of afternoon light lit the area immediately around Fraser. He lay on his back, his leg bent awkwardly beneath the other. He held one arm close to his body.  
“Fraser, I'm here.” Slowly, Meg crept closer, wary of each step. One misstep and she'd be in the same predicament as her constable, only on the fourth floor.  
“Stay away, it's dangerous.” he spoke, his voice rough.  
Meg had to swallow hard to keep from gasping. Fraser's face had sun burnt and blistered. He had a gash on his forehead that had bled heavily, oozing down to his serge collar.  
“What are your injuries, Constable?” Meg pulled rank, pulling herself together.  
“I'm fairly certain I've broken one, possibly both, of my legs and my arm as well as being dehydrated.” A loud, grumbling growl erupted from his stomach.  
“You should have eaten all your grilled cheese sandwich the other night.” Meg gently chastised him. An inch at a time she'd made her way through the door. Several floor boards had rotted and fallen to the floor below.  
“A grilled cheese sandwich sounds wonderful.” Fraser chuckled, setting off a coughing fit.  
“Damn, I didn't bring any water or food.” Meg cursed, angry at herself.  
“Where's Ray and Diefenbaker?” Fraser asked, slowly turning his head toward Meg. Blood had crusted around his eye, contrasting with is oceanic blue eye.  
“Detective Vecchio and your wolf are searching elsewhere. They haven't stopped since we realized you were missing.” Meg slipped off her dark red suit jacket and let it fall to the grimy floor.  
“Inspector, you shouldn't be here, it's too dangerous.” Fraser warned, his face pinched in pain and concern.  
Meg put her hands on her hips defensively. “Constable, I know exactly what I'm doing. Lay still and let me concentrate.” Slowly, she took another step, then another. Fifteen minutes later, Meg had made her way halfway across the large room.   
“This is exactly like the dreams I had at the hospital.” Meg began, just to hear something besides her heart hammering.  
“I didn't heed your warning, now both of us are in peril.” Fraser coughed again.   
Meg knew he'd been laying in one position too long. She longed to reassure him but couldn't bear to lie to him. Logic told her that they may both die.  
“You've never been known to follow my orders before, why start now?” Meg chided, paying attention to her feet instead of the worry on Fraser's face. The Mountie remained silent, too silent.   
“Fraser, say something.” Meg spoke loudly, barely containing her fear.  
“What would you like me to say?” he answered, looking at Meg steadily over his shoulder.  
“Anything, recite the RCMP oath or Pi, just talk.” Meg met his gaze before taking another step.   
Fraser began reciting the oath slowly. His voice sounded rough and talking caused him to cough.  
“Let me talk for a while. Let me know you hear me every so often.” Meg interrupted him before Fraser could start another recitation.  
“Ah, thank you kindly, you have a beautiful speaking voice.”   
Meg stopped in her tracks. Had Fraser just complimented her?   
“Really?” she blurted out.  
“Yes. Please continue.” Fraser answered in a low tone.  
For a moment, Meg's mind went blank. She couldn't think of anything to say; any stories to tell.   
“Well, uh, let me see,” she stalled as she took another tiny step.  
“Did you have a favorite fairytale growing up?”   
Meg nodded. A fairytale sounded simple enough. “My mother loved myths from the various First Nation peoples. My favorite was the one about soul mates,” she began. She had crossed two-thirds of the distance between the door and Fraser.  
“I'm not familiar with that one.” Fraser prompted quietly. He shifted slightly to see Meg better.   
“Once men and women shared one body. They had two heads, four arms and four legs but only one soul. They were happy living in the sky. This made the god of the water jealous so he asked the god of the heavens to help him destroy the creatures. Together, the sky god and water gods created a storm. Great winds blew, the sky god shook the heavens and the water god attacked the dry land and mountains. Then came lightning. It struck the creature, cleaving it in half. It had two hands, two legs, one head but only half a soul. This made the creatures very sad. Since then the creatures, men and women, have searched for the other half of their soul.  
Mama said that sometimes we find our soul mate and live happily ever after.” Meg paused. It had been her favorite story until her parents' divorce. After that she'd stopped listening to stories and her mother quit telling them.   
Meg's next step brought her back to reality. Her foot pushed through the rotten floor board and onto the ceiling below. She muttered a curse as she scrambled back a step.  
“Well, what now?” she groused aloud. She had less than a meter to cover.  
“Lie down on your stomach as if it were a thin ice rescue.” Fraser suggested.  
Meg looked down at the floor beneath her. Her steps had left footprints in the dust and drywall dust. Then she looked at Fraser. If she didn't pull him to safety soon he'd have permanent damage. She couldn't let that happen.   
“Here I come.” Meg muttered as she carefully lay down on the dirty floor boards supported by the floor joists holding Fraser. Sweaty and about to sneeze, she scooted toward Fraser.   
“I told you not to chase the red Ford car, you said you wouldn't, and yet here we are.” she fussed, stopping to rub her nose.  
“My apologies, Sir. It won't happen again, you have my word.” Fraser contritely promised.   
“How you get into these predicaments is beyond me. Almost drowning in a bank vault, losing your high browns, ending up in a garbage truck.” The more she thought about it the more Meg fussed and fumed.   
“Retrieving family heirloom brooches, diverting a train full of sleeping Mounties.” Fraser said quietly, staring at the afternoon sky overhead.  
“I deserve that.” Meg thought to herself, “But did he have to bring up the train incident?” she lamented.  
“Point taken, Constable.” Meg said more graciously than she felt. She still remembered how they'd kissed atop that runaway train and how cruelly she'd been to order him to forget. It had been a cruel thing to do to herself as well.  
A long, tense silence followed while Meg belly crawled to Fraser. She came head to head with him.  
“I'll have to drag you backward toward the door. It will likely be painful.” Meg warned him as she rose to her knees.  
Fraser looked back at her, his jaw clamped in anticipation. Meg saw fear in those blue eyes. She  
didn't know if she could do it; if she could cause him physical pain, even to save his life.  
“I can't let him die either.” she decided.   
“I'm ready, Sir.” Fraser confirmed.   
“Okay, here goes.” Meg took hold of him under the arms and began to pull. After a few feet her arms felt like noodles. She watched as Fraser's breathing increased and his skin paled beneath his sun burn. He'd soon pass out Meg figured.   
Halfway back to the door Fraser finally blacked out. He relaxed, releasing his injured arm.   
“I need to rest a minute too.” Meg admitted. Carefully, she sat, her legs folded beneath her. She pulled Fraser's head onto her lap.  
“This should be under more romantic conditions.” Meg longed to run her fingers through his thick, dark hair but hesitated, not wanting to touch his sunburn. Instead, she began searching her small purse. Maybe she had a piece of hard candy or a mint, anything with a bit of sugar.  
At the very bottom of the small bag, Meg found two, butterscotch candies.  
“Fraser, wake up.” She began patting him on his uninjured shoulder, trying to rouse the Mountie. Slowly, his eyes opened.   
“I have candy.”   
His clear eye blinked at her.  
“Here, put one in your mouth, it should help.” Meg unwrapped it and dropped the dark yellow candy into his mouth. With a little difficulty, Fraser began to suck on the hard, sugary disk.   
“Is that any better?” Meg asked, staring into his eyes.  
“Umm humm,” he managed.  
“Good, let me know when you're ready to begin moving again.” Meg patted him on the good shoulder. Fraser nodded a bit.  
“How did you find me, Sir?” he asked after a few minutes.  
“My hallucinations, I found the red, Ford on the street, then I tried to put myself in your shoes, well boots, here I am.” Meg shrugged.  
“I'm grateful you did, thank you kindly, Sir.”   
“You're welcome, Constable. Besides, a replacement would be too hard to train.” Meg saw Fraser's shoulder quake with laughter; until it hurt too much.  
“We should continue, it's a long way down.” Meg turned serious.  
“I take it your cellular phone isn't working.” Fraser said as Meg stood up.  
“The battery died this morning, it's just you and me.” Meg sighed as she lowered Fraser's head from her lap.  
“It's good company to be in.” he tried to smile, but pain stole it.  
Meg paused, surprised at his backhanded compliment. For a moment she wondered if it were praise or flirtation. Fraser did have a sneaky sense of humor. Could he also have a soft spot for her?  
“Are you ready?” she said as she took hold of Fraser beneath the arms.  
“Yes, I'm ready.” He took a deep breath, preparing for the pain. Meg too prepared herself for the pain. It hurt to cause him any distress.   
“This is Fraser, he can handle anything.” she reminded herself silently. It sounded hollow. Still, Meg knew she had a job to do.   
At the top of the stairs Meg paused, unsure of how to proceed; as well as tired.  
“Oh dear, five floors and no elevator.” Fraser said, looking over his good shoulder at the problem.   
“Precisely,” Meg growled. How was she supposed to get him to the ground floor without injuring him further? Carefully, she sat down on the top of the step, cradling Fraser's head in her lap. She'd run out of ideas and steam. At seven am she'd eaten a bagel and drank orange juice, but not another bite since. A bacon cheese burger and fries sounded divine, be damned the diet. A loud rumbling interrupted Meg's yearning.  
“Fraser?” she stifled a laugh.   
“Pardon me,” he reached up to scratch his brow but thought better of it.  
“I should go find help, you need medical attention.” Meg's mood sobered. Fraser had been three days without food or water.  
“Wait, Inspector,”   
Meg stopped in her tracks. She settled back down, Fraser's head on her thigh.   
“Yes?” she asked.  
“Perhaps you should rest a while, it might be a long walk to a pay phone.” He seemed to desperately want her there.  
“A few minutes rest,” she agreed.  
They reminded silent, Ben flat of his back and Meg sitting on the top step. Gently, she began caressing his neck.  
“If you wanted me to stay you could have simply asked, Fraser.” Meg said softly.  
“And you would stay, just because I asked?” He tilted his head to look up at her better. Meg glimpsed the vulnerable little boy in the grown man.  
“Yes, just because you asked.” she answered softly. He reached up with his good hand and grasped her fingers on his neck, squeezing for a moment.  
“Thank you so much.” Fraser whispered with happiness in his eyes.  
“You are most welcome.” Meg smiled back.  
****


	10. Chapter 10

The Twenty-seventh Precinct ….  
After a well deserved chewing out from Lt. Welsh, Ray resumed his search for Fraser.  
“Elaine, I'm going out looking for Fraser, let me know if anything turns up.” Ray instructed as he and Diefenbaker headed for the door.  
“Good luck,” Elaine wished him with worry in her voice. Ray looked into her expressive eyes for a moment. He wished someone cared as much about him as she did the Mountie.  
“I'll bring him back.” Ray said quietly. Elaine nodded before he turned to leave.  
******   
Traffic bottlenecked two blocks east of Racine. Ray cursed a blue streak as he sat behind a truck load of port-a-potties. Toilet paper fluttered from the door of one of the blue, plastic conveniences.   
“Ray,” Elaine's voice cracked over the police radio.  
“Go ahead, Elaine.” he listened as she relayed a foot patrolman's report of a woman looking for the Mountie and the car accident on Friday.  
“Thanks, Elaine,” Ray smiled as he pulled out his emergency light. Diefenbaker barked his thanks too, before sticking his head out the passenger window.  
*****   
Fifth Floor Landing ….  
“I'll be back as soon as I can with help.” Meg squeezed Ben's hand before she gently eased his head from her lap. He gave her a lopsided grin, his blue eyes never leaving her.  
Meg turned to look back at him from the landing. It took all of her resolve not to let a tear fall. Tears wouldn't help the vulnerable Mountie – or Meg.  
Following her own footprints in the dust, Meg made her way back to the street outside. A few, remaining streetlights buzzed overhead, preparing to shine for the night. Meg looked both ways and then straight ahead, trying to decide which way to go.  
Straight ahead is as good a direction as any, she told herself. Taking a deep breath, she began walking.   
“I must look a sight, covered in dust and grime.” she thought as she searched the urban wasteland.  
In the distance, Meg thought she saw a flashing, blue light. Her heart sped up as hope flooded through her.  
“Please be the police.” Meg prayed quickly. She began running toward the lights, her feet hitting the blacktop swiftly. Atalanta would have been jealous of Meg's speed.  
****   
“Where is he, Dief, where's Benny?” Ray talked to the wolf, hoping he might catch the Mountie's scent. Long shots had always been Ray's favorite. Why else would he hang around Fraser?  
Diefenbaker barked loudly and began prancing in the seat. Slowing down, Ray saw why. Barreling toward them at full speed came the Inspector. Her arms and legs blurred as she ran, her hair flying in the wind.  
“She ain't stopping.” Ray shouted as he jammed his foot on the brakes. The Riv fishtailed before coming to a screeching halt sideways in the street. The Inspector slammed her hands on the hood as she hit the car.  
“That way, NOW!!” she demanded before even properly seated in the vehicle.  
“What the hell?” Ray shouted, gesturing wildly.  
“Fraser, you idiot.” Meg shouted back venomously.   
Ray turned the car back into the proper lane and floored it. He wanted to give the Dragon Lady a piece of his mind but the timing felt wrong. Fraser took first priority.  
“That's the building, the fifth floor.”   
Ray shoved the Riv into part before grabbing the police radio's Mic. They needed back-up.  
Dief shot out of the car, barking anxiously and whining. He turned a circle before Meg could open the apartment building door. Ray caught up a few moments later.  
Three steps up, Ray put his foot through a rotted board. It tore his slacks leg.  
“Sheesh, chalk up another piece of my wardrobe to the Mountie.” the Detective complained.  
“I know what you mean.” Inspector Thatcher said with a smirk.  
Ray sneered at her before taking another step. He followed in the Inspector's footprints, hoping the wood held one more time.  
“Hello, Inspector? Ray?” Fraser's voice called out.  
“Yeah, Benny, we're here.” Ray confirmed. A few minutes later Ray and the Inspector arrived at the last landing. Ray panted and thought he might vomit from overexertion. Thatcher on the other hand, seemed unruffled.   
“Ray, Inspector, you're here.” Fraser beamed through his sunburn.  
“You look like crap.” Ray blurted before he thought. He felt more than saw the Inspector glare.   
“We'll get you outta here and better in no time.” Ray amended.  
*****   
Rather than let anyone drive his precious Riv, Ray followed the ambulance while Meg rode with Fraser. She had to order the Mountie into letting the EMT's cut off his red serge. Meg knew he wouldn't dare countermand her. Still, she felt a bit guilty when she saw his stoic expression as they ran the scissors up his left sleeve.   
After the ER doctor admitted Ben to the hospital and Vecchio left for the Twenty-seventh, Meg remained. Ben slept soundly, sedated by the pain meds. His left arm hung in a sling and his broken leg lay in a cast above the knee. Nurses had soaked off the blood and stitched his forehead. The blood had saved that half of his face from sunburn.  
“I almost lost him. Another few hours and dehydration or shock would have killed him.” Meg thought silently as she sat at the side of his bed. She remembered how he had looked up at her as his head lay in her lap. For once the 'Mountie Mask' couldn't be seen. Meg hadn't put hers on either.  
“I don't want to wear a mask.” she thought, shaking her head. Lost in thought, she laid her hand over his good one. A few moments later Ben squeezed her fingers.  
“Fraser,” Meg whispered.  
“Sir,” he responded, his voice sluggish. Slowly, Ben's eyes opened and focused on Meg after a few blinks.  
“I should go. I didn't intend to wake you.” Meg started to rise but Ben held fast to her fingers.   
“Stay?” He asked, eye lids drooping. Meg couldn't help but smile.  
“Just because you asked, I will.” She squeezed his fingers in return.   
“And if you'll call me 'Meg'.” she added.  
“Very well, Meg.” He gave her a bright but lopsided smile. A moment later he'd fallen asleep again, still holding Meg's fingers.  
****  
Tuesday ….  
Rah had paid Ben a visit that morning, Constable Turnbull that afternoon with Diefenbaker. The person Ben most wanted to see was Meg. Calling her by first name and holding her hand felt like a dream. He had to know if he'd dreamed it. His heart hoped he hadn't, but his brain braced for a let down.   
Waiting for Meg, Ben fell asleep; partially from boredom and partially from pain meds.   
“Ben,” a familiar voice said softly, pulling him from the depths of sleep.   
“Ben, it's dinner time.” the voice came again. It drew him up farther toward the surface.  
“Constable Fraser, your lanyard's crooked.” The voice brought Ben's eyes flying open. Immediately, he locked gazes with Inspector Thatcher.  
“Sir?” Ben sputtered. After a second he noticed amusement in her brown eyes and her lips quirking, wanting to smile.  
“At ease, Fraser.” she said softly.   
“I shouldn't have done that but your reaction was priceless.” She did smile as she quickly touched his good shoulder.   
Ben smiled back; he couldn't help it, he didn't want to either.   
“They brought your lunch tray. I think the banana is edible.” Meg lifted the cover from the plate, her nose scrunched in disgust. Ben had never seen her make that face before. She looked up and caught him staring.  
“What?” she said, trying to hide her self-consciousness.  
“It's good to see you, Meg.” Ben answered, feeling bold. Her prank gave the bashful Mountie courage.  
“It's god to be here, with you.” Meg played with the unraveling hem of the hospital blanket. Ben saw her struggle to meet his eyes. He felt it too; the awkwardness, the confusion and hope. Softly, he laid his hand over hers.  
“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked simply.  
Meg nodded.   
“Where do we go from here?” she began.   
“I'm not certain, there are …. obstacles to overcome.” Ben said, maintaining eye contact. He still wondered if he'd dreamed everything.  
“Yes, obstacles.” Meg agreed with a sigh.  
Ben squeezed her hand drawing her gaze again, and a smile.  
“If you ask me to stay, I will, because you asked.” Ben said softly.  
“Stay, please?” Meg whispered.   
“It would be my pleasure.” He pulled her hand to his lips. Finally, he'd found his fairytale ending; his fairytale ending.  
The End


End file.
